We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

Getting this post in just under the wire - Boxing Day still counts as Christmas, right?  Christmas was a laid back affair this year, just Alex, Chloe, Ben and myself here in wet and windy Edinburgh. Although it was quiet as far as going out or having guests was concerned, it was busy and exciting in different ways. This is the first year that Chloe has really understood that Christmas is different than any other time of the year.  In the weeks leading up to the big day whenever she saw anyone dressed up in a Santa hat or wearing a bit of tinsel or sporting anything vaguely Christmassy, she would exclaim "That lady/man is all dressed up, ready for Christmas!"  

This year, for the first time in our lives, the shoe was on the other foot. This year no one was playing Santa to us.  We were responsible for the festive cheer, for making it a holiday Chloe would enjoy and remember (though we also had some lovely help from Granny who kicked off the baking and decorating while she was here - see the previous post for one such baking extravaganza). We started with the classics - we trimmed the tree, we made paper snowflakes and taped them to the window, we read The Night Before Christmas, we made unhealthy home-baked goodies, we listened to John Denver & The Muppets, Christmas with Nat & Dean, Bing Crosby's White Christmas and a myriad of other Christmas albums (and we listened to them all day long on the 25th, as is wholly appropriate on Christmas Day).  We left out snacks on Christmas Eve - a mince pie and a beer for Santa, some carrots for the reindeer.  Chloe suggested they might also like some juice but we forgot.  We stuffed the stockings that had been hung by the chimney with care, we wrapped the presents and tucked them under the tree.  

Luckily Chloe's anticipation levels weren't sky-high, this being her first real Christmas, so we got to sleep in 'til the ripe old hour of 7am.  I'm pretty sure that ain't gonna happen next year.  Attempts to keep her out of the lounge until we'd made ourselves some coffee failed when she ambled into the kitchen with two items from Alex's stocking.  So I collected them back, dashed into the lounge to stuff them back in and quickly switch on the Christmas lights.  Chloe then saw the remains of the snack we'd left out the night before.  She was rather upset that Santa had eaten the mince pie she had left out for him (Silly Santa!), and wanted it back in the foil casing that he'd left partly crumpled on the plate.  We talked her down and pointed out the stockings and all was well with the world again.

She enjoyed unpacking her stocking and opening a few little presents wrapped up inside.  

She most certainly liked the edible additions from Granny that all went on her "goodie pile" and were gradually consumed throughout yesterday and today.  This was not even the entire selection.... 

An introduction to PEZ!

Chocolate Stars.  They had some kind of filling but I can't tell you what because she declined to share them with me , walking quickly away from me and rapidly shoving them into her mouth whenever I suggested it.  

A lollipop.  To be consumed only in the kitchen because she keeps touching it. I tried telling her not to do that  because she would get sticky fingers but apparently "Chloe like having sticky finger"

It took her a little while but yes, she did figure out this money is made of chocolate.    

Once the stockings were done we had a little break for some Pancakes with fresh fruit, yoghurt and maple syrup.  Then it was onto the main event - presents.  Chloe had fun unwrapping her presents, Ben's presents, even our presents.  Well, why not?  Her enjoyment was what made the day for us.

  

Luckily for us Chloe is a very conscientious present un-wrapper, putting the paper straight into the bin-bag, so we didn't have to worry about an explosion of mess.  Apparently at 2.5yrs old cleaning up is still fun.

We had a really fun morning.  Seeing her genuine excitement as she opened her presents, skipped around the livingroom playing with new toys, rearranged the ornaments on the Christmas tree, stuffed her face with "sweeties" and made then re-made The Gruffalo puzzle again and again brought back to me some of the magic of Christmas that got eroded a bit with age and cynicism.

Meanwhile, Ben was rather oblivious to the whole thing.  Give him a year or two.

So thanks to all of you who sent us cards and gifts, Skyped us, and wished us a Merry Christmas.  You all helped to make it special for us and we are thankful for everything.  We hope you all had wonderful days yesterday and we wish you a Happy New Year.  

It's harder than it looks

Chloe has reached the age where she likes getting involved in doing some cooking or baking.  She really enjoyed working in the kitchen with Mom while she was here for a few weeks over Ben's birth.  Who doesn't enjoy Christmas baking after all?  

One day Chloe and Granny set out to make a Gingerbread Christmas Tree, courtesy of Waitrose.  Day one was Stage One: Make the Gingerbread Cookies.  A bit of flour sifting, a bit of dough rolling, some cookie cutting and lots of singing.  Granny had bought some jingling napkin-rings made out of bells and Chloe liked nothing more than grasping one in each floury hand and enthusiastically shaking them while Granny sang "Jingle Bells" on repeat. 

  

And finally, with hoarse voices and tired arms they were done.

Into the oven those little stars went and they (mostly) came out as perfectly golden cookies.  Then after a short hiatus when we forgot about them for a few days, it was time to crack on with the build.  On to Stage Two: Decorating.  Icing and glittery toppings were generously supplied in the kit.  Wonderful, what could go wrong?  Well, let's just say that Granny was less than impressed with the quantity and quality fo the supplied supplies.  The decorating did not go quite as smoothly, or as beautifully as anticipated.  And no, it wasn't just due to Chloe's "help". 

On to Stage Three: The Build - possibly even less successful than Stage Two:

Et Voila!  The finished article.  How did they do?  I'll let you be the judge but I think they.....

Unfortunately gravity immediately took over so we didn't have long to bask in it's all its festive glory.

You win some, you lose some.  But Granny and Chloe had a blast and that's all that really matters.

A few overdue snippets

Here's a little round-up of a few things Chloe has been up to over the last few months.  Things I kept meaning to write about but never quite got round to for one reason or another.  

Chloe likes to build.  

Lego, the best toy ever invented?  Quite possibly.  A myriad of possibilities limited only by the ability to imagine them.  Chloe's 2yr old imagination hasn't quite expanded towards grasping all these possibilities as yet - all she ever wants to build is a Zoo or a Castle.  Actually, that's not quite true.  I must correct myself, for you see below a third structure.  It isn't a Zoo.  It isn't a Castle.  Behold.......the Zoo-Castle!!!!!

Chloe likes to climb.  

It was bound to happen with parents like us. As soon as Alex gets the ladder out she wants to climb up it.  She wants to climb up it even when it isn't out.  I was in my bedroom a few weeks ago drying my hair with the hairdryer while Chloe wandered in and out of the room.  I assumed Alex was keeping an eye out for her.  He assumed I was.  She was therefore going about her business un-encumbered by any stringent adult supervision, something not hugely out of the ordinary in our household if I am honest.  As I turned off the hairdryer to reposition it I heard a quiet, but insistent little voice floating in through the closed bedroom door repeating a single phrase:  "Mama come see what did Chloe do."  She didn't sound upset, I debated finishing off my hair and then going to look, but then I figured I should probably just check what she was up to.  She obviously wasn't with Alex.  I went into the hallway.  No sign of Chloe.  I started walking towards the livingroom and then I heard her again.  From behind me.  From the closed hallway closet I had just walked past.  I opened the door, looking down at the floor where a toddler would normally be found.  Empty.  Odd.  Then I heard her say "Mama" and looked upwards.  And there she was, on her own, at the top of the ladder propped up against the wall.  In the dark closet with the door closed.  Way to go on the responsible parental supervision there, Leigh.  Unfortunately my camera was not to hand so I shall give you a substitute.  Basically this (but imagine Alex isn't there, and neither is the light.) :  

Three more things Chloe likes.

  

1. Big Brown Woof.  One of her three "Woofs" and frequently in pole position as the choice companion for an outing.  Though lately Yellow Dog has been snapping at his heels for that role. Big Brown Woof better watch his back!  

2. Wearing rabbit ears.  This is a headband with rabbit ears on it.  Or, technically, "Bunny" Ears.  These ones are not really meant for playing dress up.  Ok, maybe that's not strictly true.  They are not meant for children to play dress up with.  Ok, fine.  They are from a Playboy Bunny costume, but I swear I only bought it to dress up for Hallowe'en.  Once.  

3. The potty.  Whilst we aren't officially "potty training" at the moment she often likes to go naked in the house and is actually pretty good at using the potty.  Not just during the day either.  It's not an uncommon occurrence to hear her calling for us long after she has been tucked up in bed, only to find that she has stripped naked, removed her nappy and is sitting on the potty beside her bed in the dark.  She started doing it several times an evening when she kept getting extra bedtime songs sung to her every time we had to re-tuck her back in bed.  After the fourth time in one evening I asked her, as I was putting her pyjamas back on, "Chloe, are you just using the potty so Mama will sing you more songs?"  To which she answered "Yes!" So we had to re-think our re-tuck routine.  

Now, combine all three of the above and you have this adorable sight:

I'll just leave you with that image. 

She knows him so well...

Yesterday at about 11am I was in the bathroom getting ready for the day (yes, I realise the day had long since started by that time but such is life with a toddler & a newborn) and Chloe came running in with something to tell me.  She excitedly bounded around the small room then put in a request in her polite voice, a kind of sing-song sweetly pitched voice she uses when ending a sentence in "please".

"Mama,  Dada coffee please.  Dada coffee please!"

This phrase was not new to me, Alex had employed our daughter to pass on hot drink requests in the past.

"Ok Chloe, Mama will go make Dada some coffee in a minute", I replied.

I finished putting on my make-up and was about to put the kettle on when I thought I would ask Alex if he wanted me to take Ben and wrap him after I made coffee or if he could wait a bit and I'd wrap Ben first.  I needed to gauge how desperately urgent the requirement for caffeine was.  Turned out it was pretty urgent.  I walked into the living room to find Alex sitting on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, head bowed down in slumber.

"Huh."  I thought to myself, "He looks pretty deeply asleep for someone who just a few minutes ago talked his daughter into ordering some coffee for himself."

Then I considered a second scenario.

"Alex? Sweetie?"  He roused to a half awake state.

"Did you send Chloe to ask me to make you some coffee?"  He looked confused and muttered "What?" in his semi-awake state.

"Did you send Chloe to ask me to make you a cup of coffee?"  He woke up a bit more, continued to look confused and answered "No....."

Scenario number two was starting to take shape.  I turned to Chloe.

"Did Dada ask you to ask Mama to make him some coffee?"

"No."

Interesting.

"Did you ask mama to make Dada coffee because you saw Dada sleeping and thought he needed some coffee?"

"Yes.....   Dada need coffee wake-up!"

Yes he does, yes indeed.

And Then We Were Four...

If you've read my previous posts you'll know I was dearly hoping not to go overdue with this pregnancy and at 39wks +2days baby Ben obliged!

It all started on Friday morning.  I had booked a last minute hair appointment for that afternoon and Mom, Chloe and I were getting ready to go out to the supermarket beforehand.  I noticed a bit of leaking "down below" and wondered if it could be a trickle of amniotic fluid but I wasn't sure and figured I'd just wait and see what happened.  My waters never broke prior to going into labour with Chloe so I wasn't really sure if this was it or not.  So out we went.  I had some more leaking through the morning and a bit of a "show" but I was still unconvinced anything much was happening as I was just having normal Braxton Hicks (otherwise known as "practice contractions"), and certainly nothing painful.  We got home after lunch and my hair appointment was looming.  I was pretty sure my waters had broken but I figured it was just a matter of waiting to see if I went into labour in the next little while or not.  The contractions, which I was still considering just slightly stronger Braxton Hicks, were continuing but weren't regular.  I thought about cancelling the hair appointment, but then realised that if this was it, then I was unlikely to get a chance to get my hair done any time soon so I figured I'd just go ahead and hope things didn't kick off too suddenly mid-haircut!  Luckily all was fine, I had a lovely hairdresser who was very interested in the pregnancy.  She asked if I thought I was going to go overdue.  I chuckled to myself and answered "No, I'd say definitely sooner rather than later" as I sat there with mild contractions going on. 

I got home and after taking some advice decided to give the hospital a call just to let them know what the situation was and see what they wanted me to do.  They said they wanted to see me to confirm if my waters had broken or not and to check that the baby was ok.  I figured there was no great rush so we got Chloe some dinner while I had a shower in case it was the last chance I'd get for a little while.  I hastily packed a hospital bag, but wasn't planning on needing it.  Mom dropped me off at the hospital at about 6pm and I saw a Midwife who confirmed my waters had broken and put me on a CTG (continuous electronic foetal monitoring machine) for 15mins to check on the baby.  Because I was planning a VBAC (Vaginal birth after Caesarian section) the midwife said she would go speak to the Doctor working that evening to see if they would want to admit me overnight to monitor me to see if I went into labour on my own or not. I expressed my strong desire to go home to see if I went into labour there as I didn't feel the need to be in hospital for that.  Alex had finished his shift in a different part of the hospital by this time and came to meet me.  The midwife came back and we were told they wanted me to stay.  I politely declined saying I was happy to sign a self-discharge form and would return to the hospital in the morning for observations and to make a plan of action had I not gone into labour overnight.  We were told this was fine so she went off to get the form and Alex went to get the car.  The doctor arrived and I got a bit of a lecture about how I could potentially be putting myself and/or baby in danger by not staying.  I stated my position on the matter and why I was making my decision, she stated hers.  In the end I think she reluctantly said "Well, you are obviously an intelligent woman and capable of making your own decisions so there is no point us continuing to go back and forth over this."  I agreed, we both signed the form and, her ass duly covered, I was free to go. 

Alex and I got home about 8pm, I finished putting Chloe to bed and Alex popped out for some Chinese take-away.  I was pretty sure things were going to start happening that evening as the contractions were getting stronger and occurring more frequently.  We put on and figured out how to use the Tens machine to help with the discomfort I was starting to feel and then we sat down to watch some Mentalist episodes while we ate and I timed contractions.  I was surprised to find they were actually occurring quite regularly, about 3-5mins apart and then speeding up to every 2-3mins about 40mins later.  I phoned Mom and asked her to come over to stay with Chloe overnight as the contractions were starting to have a bit of a bite to them and I thought I should head back to the hospital.  We arrived at about 10:30pm, I was examined and found to be fully effaced and about 3cm dilated.  This was very good news compared to my progression with Chloe so I was hopeful things would progress more smoothly this time.  We were moved to a room on the labour ward but there were no rooms with birth pools available, nor did my room have a bath so my hopes for a water-birth went completely out the window.  Luckily there were mobile telemetry CTG machines available (basically wireless machines) so while I wasn't able to be in the water, at least I wasn't hooked up and tethered to a machine for the duration.  I would go so far as to say that I hated having the CTG on me when I was in labour with Chloe - I found the elastic bands they attach the sensor on with to be constricting and  that made my contractions more painful - but I said I was prepared to give it a try this time and if they didn't increase my discomfort then I would consent to having one on continuously.  It didn't make me any more uncomfortable and as I could wander where I wanted in the room, I was happy enough to keep it on.  

I was starting to get more uncomfortable and decided to try the Gas & Air (basically a mix of Nitrous Oxide and Oxygen that you breathe in when you start feeling a contraction coming on.  It doesn't take away all the pain but can reduce it and make the peak of the contractions more bearable).  I had tried it briefly in my last labour but it made me feel light-headed and a bit sick so I wasn't sure about using it this time around.  I gave it a go though as it's on the lower end of the scale of pain relief and has no negative side effects.  Luckily it worked pretty well for me this time.  So I spent the next few hours pacing the room, kneeling on the floor whilst resting on the edge of the bed or standing over the bed and leaning onto it.  I read my Kindle and nibbled on Sesame Snaps and Garibaldi biscuits in between contractions and then started breathing in the gas and air and boosting my tens machine when a contraction came on.  Alex snoozed on a chair in the corner.  That sounds terribly un-supportive of him but to be honest, I didn't feel like chatting and I didn't really want to be touched or distracted at all while going through a contraction so there wasn't really much for him to do.  I figured one of us might as well get some rest.  I even offered him the bed because I sure as hell wasn't going to be lying down on it, but some misguided sense of chivalry kept him on the chair instead.  

I was examined again at 3am and held my breath waiting to hear if I had made much progress.  I was about 6cm.  I had hoped for a bit more but at least we were getting somewhere and I wasn't disheartened.  The rest of the night progressed in much the same way.  The contractions seemed to ease off a bit for an hour or so which made me a bit concerned but the midwife said it can be normal for the body to have a little rest for a while before the really hard work begins.  Not long after that I definitely noticed a change in the intensity of the contractions and much more pressure in my cervical region during them.  From reading Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Childbirth (excellent reading for any pregnant woman) I had expected to notice a definite change in intensity and pain as I neared full dilation so I was very conscious to try to relax into and go with it rather than fight against the sensations.  I was asking to be examined again at this point as I wanted to know if I was fully dilated yet or not.  It hadn't been the minimum 4hrs between examinations so the Midwife said she wouldn't do one quite yet.  I got a bit worried and asked what happens if I feel the need to push?  What if I wasn't dilated enough to start pushing?  She said that if I had the urge to push I wouldn't be able to stop myself, so not to worry about it and push if I had to.  I'm not really sure how long the next bit took, the contractions were very intense and I was just concentrating on them.  My notes said I was fully dilated at 7:20am.  When the urge to push came it was most definitely involuntary!  I couldn't have stopped had I wanted to.  The midwife just let me get on with it.  I think the head came out in several pushes/contractions and it was definitely an odd sensation feeling that the head was sticking out between my legs!  Once the head was out gravity pretty much did the rest because I was still standing, and I think he more or less slid out without any extra pushing on my part.    Benjamin Mark Eros was born at 7:32am on Saturday November 24th.  He was passed up to me and I laid down onto a mat and got comfy with him on my chest skin-to-skin and he had a little feed.  We waited for the cord to stop pulsating before cutting it and then we allowed the placenta to be delivered naturally which came out about 30mins after delivery and took just a few gentle pushes from me.  

It was a wonderful birth experience for me.  Considering the circumstances I felt it was as "natural" as I could have hoped for and I am quite proud of how I coped during the labour.  It wasn't drug-free but it was pretty low on the scale of pain relief and I never felt out of control and I never thought that I couldn't do it.  I let out some involuntary grunts during the pushing stages but otherwise I found that just concentrating and managing my breathing and staying as relaxed as possible through the contractions was enough to get me through them and there was no screaming or swearing involved!  But then, I am a bit of a control freak and hate feeling out of control, so maybe that is no surprise to those who know me.  

We stayed in the hospital for 24hrs as they wanted to do regular observations on Ben due to the fact that I carry Group B Strep (a commensal bacteria that isn't harmful to me but that can be picked up by a newborn as they pass through the birth canal and which can cause serious respiratory problems if it is picked up.)  Luckily all seems well and we got home yesterday afternoon.  I'm feeling SO much better than after the C-section I had with Chloe, being mobile and feeling good makes such a difference.  I'm so glad I chose to try a VBAC rather than a repeat C-section,  it was definitely the right choice for me and one I will  be making for any future births.  I'm also very pleased to report that the SPD I had been suffering with seems to have completely disappeared overnight.  I was hoping for it to go after the birth, and expected it to gradually improve but it literally happened instantly so that's another pleasant surprise.  

Chloe seems to be taking the new addition to the family well so far.  She seems to understand that baby Ben is no longer in mummy's tummy and is the wriggling pink thing that is, as she puts it, "drinking milk from mama's boobies."  She is very interested in looking at him, especially if he makes any noise, but has so far declined any offer of touching him.  She is also very insistent that the Bluey Zebra who she bought for him is lying in the cot next to him.  So that's cute.  

And now, here are some pictures...

Gourmet Chloe

I know it is probably too early to make long-term assumptions, and of course she could suddenly decide next week that she will only eat baked beans, but so far Chloe seems to have a rather sophisticated palate.  For a 2 year old.  I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, she has dined at more Michelin starred establishments in her 2 years than her father has in his whole life, and I'll give myself a little pat on the back for being a decent cook as well.  I've certainly pushed (and found) some of her culinary limits - I'm not sure if it is a good thing or not that a 2 year old has "too spicy" in her vocabulary, or that she uses it so often!  At least I know that if we travel to South East Asia she won't turn her nose up at the local dishes.  The Pork Laarp I made one night went down a treat, much to my surprise.     

She initially showed a fair bit of disdain for salads - "No green" was the usual reaction to the sight of lettuce - but that issue has been neatly resolved.  Find salads without lettuce and she is a veritable salad monster!  Luckily our local bakery has a delicious salad counter and does take-out.  That's her 5-a-day sorted out.  Yummy.

Due to the usual toddler concept of "sharing" - i.e if you have something, they want it too (and they expect to get it) - she has developed a bit of a taste for one of my favourite lunch-time feasts.  Avocado toast (thanks Kate for introducing me to this one!).  Now, she used to be slightly critical of my ingredients as I like to use the "too spicy oil" a.k.a chilie oil, however I decided she could like it or lump it.  I don't make my lunch to her specifications, even if she thinks I should.  I think her spice tolerance has increased of late though as recently when I've tried to put her off eating my lunch by telling her I made it with the "too spicy oil" she has retorted:  "Not too spicy, just right spicy."  And so of course half my lunch gets handed over to her once again.....

Now I will admit it isn't all exotic, healthy food.  She likes her ice cream as much as the rest of us and one of her favourite snacks are Animal Cookies.  She is a sucker for bagels and likes her Oatibix cereal with a little more sugar than I'd prefer, but such is life.  Sometimes she likes it with a fair bit of milk too - this is what happens when you let her pour:

Yes, there is some cereal under there somewhere....(I think she secretly adds that much just cause she likes to mix & stir things so much)

So for now I will be thankful that she generally eats whatever is put in front of her, but I'll try not to feel too smug about it.  With a Toddler, anything can change in a heartbeat. 

So near and yet....so far....

33 weeks down, 7 more to go.  Optimistically.  I'm trying not to think about going overdue at the moment.  7 weeks is looking like an eternity right now... Oh how quickly perception can change.  There I was, happily ticking through the weeks, smugly commenting on how my body seems to cope with pregnancy quite well when suddenly in the space of 48hrs it all changed.  Hello SPD, goodbye easy pregnancy.  For those unaware here is a Wikipedia link on Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction.  I am probably only on the moderate end of the spectrum, certainly not at the wheelchair or crutches stage and hope never to be, but let me tell you, it still sucks.  I'm also getting a lot of Sacro-Iliac Joint pain, in fact they are worse than in the pubic symphysis most days.  Even fairly low levels of activity, such as just getting through the day with a toddler, are giving me a lot of grief.  

I'm not just using giving me grief as a convenient turn of phrase, it is actually a very apt description.  Because the SPD isn't just causing me pain, it has taken a great deal from me.  Things of significance to me.   I feel those losses acutely. I've had to stop carrying Chloe.  This is a big thing for me.  Huge.  I don't think I fully appreciated all the emotional facets that Babywearing, or I suppose Toddler-wearing, held for me until it was no longer possible for me to do it. It gave me joy, it provided a physical bond with Chloe that is impossible to replicate.  I miss walking along, talking to her, being able to hear her chattering back to me easily over the noise of the traffic.  Knowing she was interested in something she saw, even if she was out of sight on my back, by feeling the excited kicking of her legs back and forth and the slight bouncing of her body up and down.  I miss her turning her face up to me for kisses, just because.  I miss the feel of her still body and her heavy head resting on my chest or back when she fell asleep.  How often do we get to physically enjoy the stillness of our children?  They certainly don't stop moving when they are awake.  

Unexpectedly, I have also suffered a loss of confidence.  A loss of a feeling of competence.  I'm so used to the convenience of using a sling in my daily life that I baulk at the idea of going out with a pushchair and all the attendant hassles that go with it.  Having to wait for a bus that has an empty pushchair space, manoeuvring through crowded streets and crowded shops, finding a space to park it in a busy cafe, avoiding steps... and all of this is made harder by the SPD which makes it painful even negotiating a curb with a child-heavy pushchair, let alone anything else.  I never thought twice about going out with just a handbag and a wrap, striding out the door with Chloe walking beside me.  I think twice about every activity now, and worry about how inconvenient or difficult or additionally painful it might be with the added concern of a bulky pushchair thrown into the mix.  Not to mention worrying about the fact that Chloe used to walk a lot when I used a sling but she is laaaazy with the pushchair.  I had been hoping to build up her stamina for when the baby arrives as I won't be able to carry her as much if I am carrying him, but I fear she's taking a step backwards in that regard, as well as just not getting as much exercise in a day.  Hardly ideal.

So much is going to change when the new baby comes.  A lot of adjustment is going to have to take place, for Chloe maybe most of all.  I'm so aware of wanting to make the most of this dwindling time where it is just the two of us but I feel it is being wasted.  Getting down on her level, kneeling on the floor with her, picking her up for a hug, going for a walk - all this causes discomfort, if not outright pain.  I can't even consider chasing her around the park, twirling her in the air or rough-housing on the bed with her any more.  I can't be as much fun as I want to be as a parent, constantly having to tell her I can't do something because of my "ouchy pelvis".  And that's even when said "ouchy pelvis" isn't making me snappy and irritable over something that I know wouldn't normally bother me.  Let us not forget the abrupt erupting into tears I keep doing in front of her lately.  I've certainly had an emotional response to my feelings of loss and incompetence and I feel like I'm turning into an emotional wreck.  I just can't keep my shit together all the time and I don't like falling apart in front of her.

Is it just the SPD and having to deal with the associated adjustments?  Is it being 33 weeks pregnant and hormonal?  It is fear of the unknown - how I'm going to cope with sleep deprivation, two kids and little additional support on a daily basis?  All of the above?  Whatever it is, I'm certainly not feeling smug about how well I'm coping with this pregnancy any more.  So let's all hope baby Eros number 2 is as prompt as Chloe was when it comes to arriving when due 'cause like I said, 7 weeks is more than long enough from where I am standing now...